


What Happens in Mexico... Does Not Stay in Mexico

by a_thousand_sails



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Excuse the Title, Mission Fic, Multi, References to human sacrifice, References to kidnapping, References to polyamory, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_thousand_sails/pseuds/a_thousand_sails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A run in with an evil cult has unusual consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Mexico... Does Not Stay in Mexico

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Highlander_II](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/gifts).



***** SCOTT *****

"Alright, everyone back to the Blackbird, I'm going to check on Logan!"

Scott's optic beams destroyed the last pillar, and the ceiling of the temple crumbled. A slab of masonry rolled outwards, making the visored mutant hop back a step. He frowned, obviously having made a miscalculation somewhere in the mass of the block, angle of projection, and contact force exerted by the ground surface.  
He shook his head, spinning away to scan the horizon. Clear. They were in the middle of the Mexican desert, surrounded by nothing but clear skies and scrub. The atmosphere wasn't nearly sinister enough for the terrible things that happened here; the X-men had received word of a primitive cult who performed ritual sacrifices of mutant children on the site of an ancient Mayan temple. They flew out as soon as they had the co-ordinates, managing to rescue the dozen terrified captives. Another mission success. Now all Scott had to do was find their irascible Canadian mascot, and they could get the hell out of here.

The scree streamed away from Scott's boots as he made his way down the small ravine, movements agile and precise. Logan had gone tumbling down here with a pack of starving desert wolves the head priest had unleashed - yelling at the X-men to continue the mission as he went. Scott felt a couple of rebellious neurons pleading that he leave the Wolverine wherever he had ended up and spare himself and his team the trouble. Luckily Scott had plenty of experience quieting unruly parts of his mind.  
A low noise made him still his descent. He swept the gully for movement, but could see nothing, cursing the fading twilight. The noise came again, a low growl that immediately had his fingers on his visor trigger. Were the wolves still here? Where was Logan?

Scott crawled over a rock, dropping down and squinting, ready to yell for backup.

*Scott? Where are you?*

Jean's voice seemed unnaturally large and loud in his head, and Scott jerked back reflexively, almost immediately correcting his recoil to keep his attention on the area around him.

*Hang on, I'm a bit busy.*

"Scott?" Jean's voice materialised, and he twisted in horror to see her standing at the top of the gully, peering down in concern.  
"Get out of here, Jean!" His subconscious sixth sense was sensing crackles of urgent static to his brain.  
It all happened at once. A flash of movement, the torn vibrations of air particles, the massive howling roar that snarled viciously into Scott's ear cavities, the telepath scream from Jean - *ORORO, GO* - and then being slammed into rock. He felt the air cushion around his skull that was Jean's quick thinking.  
The creature looming over him bore a slight resemblance to Logan. The untamable hair was dripping blood, clothes missing, and features twisted out of anything human, but it undoubtedly had been, at one stage, their team member.  
"Logan?" Scott called tentatively, hand creeping slowly towards his temple, where his visor was still thankfully intact.  
The beast's head lowered at the sound, hunching over and coming alarmingly close to Scott's. The pinned mutant could see the golden glare in the wild eyes, and smell the unmistakable ghost of cigar smoke, under blood - lots of blood. The Wolverine also took a sniff, long and invasive, sticking his head right under Scott's jaw.  
*Jean?*  
He knew she wouldn't act first, not with Logan's hands on his chest and Scott being rather pierce-able as a result. But he wanted to hear her, to gather all the information so he could start planning his way out of there.  
*He's not himself, Scott. His pre-frontal cortex is hardly active, and his thoughts are... strange. But I don't think he means to kill you, or me.*  
Warm breath dampened the air. Scott wrinkled his nose preemptively. But it seemed the wolverine hadn't been feasting on the carcasses of his enemies after all, and had brushed his teeth that morning.

“Mate.”

The growl was considerably lower than Logan's usual talking pitch, more in tune with the grunting sounds issued during training and Danger Room sessions. The word itself was clear, though, and puzzling. Scott was sure it was the Australians, not Canadians, who commonly used it.

“Mate,” it came again, and the large hands wrapped around Scott's chest compressed more tightly, lifting him into the air and dropping him on Logan's shoulder. Scott tensed his abdomen just in time to avoid being winded and automatically kicked out, pushing at Logan's jaw with braced palms. A thick arm wrapped itself around the back of his thighs, tightening like a winch.

*Jean?* he called again, feeling isolated and vulnerable. He was relatively sure that he could break out of Logan's hold if he gave it his all, but that would introduce being crushed as a potential outcome. He trusted Jean enough not to rip his visor off there and then.

*Hang in there, Scott, it's... dark in here. Have a look.*

Bright images danced behind his eyelids as he closed them reflexively. It had been a long time since he had seen the world in colour. It was visceral. Orange filter of sunset, purple heather sprouting between rocks and weeds, glinting trickle of water. The smell of rusty blood, so much stronger than earlier, crushed grass and dust, a clean, slightly chemical scent with hints of forest-ey green and well-pencilled paper, summer berries... it smelt familiar, but through the Wolverine's nose seemed incredibly strong. *Yes. Mate.*

The thought was loud, too, and mixed in with all the sensory details it all made Scott feel like a bunch of crickets were stringing nearby, and a storm was brewing. The touch of Jean's mind was an anchor in the wind. *He's projecting his thoughts strongly - it's like he's not even aware I'm here.*

*Can you reason with him?*

*I'll try.*

The live feed swirled with colour and movement as Scott felt Logan turn beneath him; Jean had left him plugged in. Sniffing, more rushing information. Logan was climbing the slope with Scott on his back. He must have seen Jean. Scott's subconscious danger meter blared an alarm, and, as the grip on his legs was much gentler, he shoved himself upwards and over Logan's shoulder. An inelegant dive roll ended with him springing to his feet.

*Scott stop!*

The Wolverine snarled at him but didn't approach. Jean was behind his hulking body, looking anxiously towards Scott. She wasn't moving either, but was standing very close to Logan, and seemed to be... clinging to his arm.

“It's alright,” she said, low and soothing. Scott wasn't sure who she meant to calm.

“We're not going to fight.” Her long fingers stroked up Logan's hairy arm, while she stared meaningfully at Scott. Scott's gaze was immediately riveted to that point of contact, analysing how tender her touch was, how familiar. He was so confused, Jean's messages made so little sense.

“Scott, I need you to trust me, and come over here.”

He did trust her. When he first came to the Mansion he was effectively blind, and incredibly aware of both his vulnerability and his volatility. Jean slipped under the pristine walls he had carefully constructed, becoming his everything in the blink of an eye. She was there, whispering silently into his ear as he opened his eyes for the first team beneath the visor. The trust they shared was well exercised and elastic.

But still, his brain was running a hundred different simulations wherein she was somehow wrong, and this all ended badly. Or worse, she really was choosing Logan over him.

*Goddamnit, Scott, Logan needs you to come closer.*

This day was definitely getting stranger. Scott took a couple of steps towards Jean and Logan, keeping his body in combat-ready equilibrium. Logan's stance relaxed, and he let out a soft sound. Tanned arms wrapped themselves around Scott's torso, while he bore the return of the sniffing with ill grace.

Logan snorted, horse-like, and released his embrace, only to grab Scott's wrist. He made his way down into the ravine, pulling inexorably at Jean and Scott to follow.

*What's the plan, Jean?*

*Go with it. I think the weird behaviour should wear off. His mind is just a bit confused.*

Logan dragged them along as he snuffled and snorted, occasionally pausing. Jean kept up a steady stream of commentary on his thoughts, which were mostly basic, scent-based impressions.

*It's like he's regressed to an animalistic frame of mind. I have no idea what caused this, whether it was an intended effect, if it's something particular to Logan – a coping method created by his damaged brain? It would be fascinating to get an MRI scan.*

Between one glance and the next, faint lines on a rocky outcrop became the opening to a cave. Logan had apparently been leading them here, as he shoved insistently towards it. Scott was seized by the horrifying thought that this was where the Wolverine had dragged his kills, and their grisly intestines would be draped on the floor. Fortunately, the cave proved to be an empty, shallow, relatively well-lit, dry place that might make an excellent den for the wild coyotes and wolves that roamed the desert.

Jean nearly lost her footing as Logan nudged at her back too roughly. He seemed unusually clumsy, but Scott was grateful for the opportunity to cling protectively to his girlfriend, even if she had telekinesis to save her. Logan loomed over them, features scrunched up illegibly. Jean tilted her head to the side, focused on Logan in silent communication. 

“Logan wants us to lie down, Scott.”

Scott's mouth opened compulsively, but he was quick to follow Jean's example as she pragmatically sat down on a flattish bit of rock. She seemed unbelievably calm, making him feel uncomfortable and unbalanced. Logan crouched next to them and then stretched out. With one arm on either side wrapped around Jean and Scott, the erstwhile Wolverine made a wriggling movement, turning his head to snuffle and rub over Scott's hair, before rolling on his side to face Jean.

While Scott awkwardly craned his neck to peer over Logan's back, the large man rubbed his bearded face against Jean's cheek, rumbling contentedly in his chest. “Mate.”

The word that seemed to make up 100% of Logan's vocabulary suddenly made sense.

*Jean!* He hissed in his head, hoping she was still tuned in to his thoughts. There, he could feel her presence. It usually felt like her vanilla scent was clouding his senses.

*Logan thinks he's part of some sort of wolf pack, and you're his mate!*

*Strange, isn't it? But that's not all-*

*He could decide he wants to impregnate you!*

*Calm down, Scott, I don't smell like a wolf in heat. If I did, he would have done something about it by now.*

Scott was hardly reassured.

*If he makes a move on you, I'm blasting him.*

*I would expect nothing less.*

A gentle snore startled Scott, until he differentiated the noise from the previous ones, and realised that Logan was genuinely asleep. He knew the man had far too refined senses for them to attempt escaping, not that there was anywhere for them to escape to, but the thought was still a tempting daydream. The best plan for survival, he knew, was to avoid provoking the wild beast inhabiting Logan's skin, and trust Jean's intuition.

That said, there weren't any real mission protocols for this sort of situation, so Scott distracted himself trying to make some up.

 

***** LOGAN *****

 

Noise. An out of place, offensive noise, soft enough to go undetected for a while. How long had it been there? Mates. Must protect mates. The thought roused him quickly, and he disentangled himself easily from his sleeping mates. A burst of fondness made him purr, admiring the beautiful red hair that had somehow ended up wound through his fingers, and the peaceful sleeping faces.

Moving soundlessly, he loped across the small cave and entered the grey world dawning outside. The air was crisp and fresh, tickling his sensitive nose. Without having to worry about his smaller, more delicate mates injuring themselves, he was able to bound freely up into the pink light above the gully, feeling the dew-damp grass beneath his feet with glee. A long sniff revealed little new about the surroundings, too cold for the ripe riot of sensation that would waft through the air later on in the day. The soft humming sound had disappeared.

He growled in annoyance. He would have to search out the intruders.

The sun warmed the ground quickly, running becoming easier as his muscles loosened and his movements became smooth. The hunt was over quickly as he rounded a clump of bushes. A group, moving with purpose and strength. Danger. There were too many to charge straight at, but if he waited stealthily he could attack from the side. The bushes were small but dense, and he remained hidden, lowering into a crouch.

His heart beat faster. As the short, brown-haired one stepped closer, he roared, leaping out. His claws were met with an instant spray of – ice? - but he barreled into the body with his momentum.

“Bobby!”

Something crashed into him, rolling him off his victim. He snarled, slashing upwards, aiming for the neck... only to be met with a shiny, reflective surface that rebuffed the attack. He whined in confusion. What were these strange creatures?

Suddenly, the body atop of him rolled away. Before he could spring to his feet, however, there was a sharp sting in his shoulder. His explosive movement turned into a wobble, and then he had fallen back to the ground again. His arm twitched, belying his command, as everything went hazy.

 

***** JEAN *****

 

Jean slept surprisingly well. Logan was usefully warm, and she was tired enough that Scott's cloud of worry failed to affect her. The morning that followed was, of course, chaotic – she awoke to the type of loud mental projections that usually occurred during distress or combat. Upon discovering Logan gone, she and Scott had raced out into the cold, following the directions of her telepathy.

Storm, Bobby, and Colossus were hauling Logan into the side of a helicopter. Turned out they had stayed overnight in Mexico City while Kurt took the rescued mutants back to Westchester, and charted a helicopter first thing in the morning. They had tranquilized Logan with an elephant dart. With a minimal explanation that they were unharmed, Jean ignored Ororo's questioning looks, and they flew off.

The day passed quickly back at the mansion getting the kidnapped mutant kids sorted out with Hank, who was able to contact Mexican officials in his capacity as Secretary of Mutant Affairs. Now, finally able to rest in a proper bed, Jean found herself going through her nightly ablutions more sluggishly than usual. Scott had gone for a quick work out downstairs and returned from the showers silent and subdued.

Jean dropped the facecloth into the sink with a wet slap. “Have you figured it out yet?”

Her fiance tugged a white t-shirt on, shoulders tensing uncomfortably. “Figured out what? Logan's weird issues? I think we're just going to have to live with them.”

Sadly, that was just the response Jean was expecting. The X-men team leader could read people and situations well enough to do his job, but at times he could be exceptionally clueless. Jean wasn't sure if that was the case, or if Scott was trying to hide his feelings on the matter.

“Don't make me go rooting around in your head, Scott. Talk to me.”

At the mention of her telepathy, Scott turned pink. It was a strange reaction that occurred lately in almost direct proportion to the amount of time he spent with Logan. Jean thought she may finally understand the correlation.

With exaggerated slowness, Jean sauntered her way towards the dresser where Scott was standing. In her sheer silk chemise, it was the sort of sexy move she would never have dreamed of pulling off in her younger days. By the way Scott compulsively licked his lips, watching avidly through the mirror, she knew she was pulling it off. Their skin matched, in its paleness, which she studied as she wound her arms around her boyfriend's neck. Jean was taller, by an inch and a half, but she didn't often feel it, not until she could press herself against him. 

“Logan identified us as his mates,” Jean began. “As you know, wolves mate for life. I think there is something we've all been ignoring, and this little incident has just served to highlight it.”

Scott turned to face her. As usual, his eyes were hidden behind his rose quartz glasses, but the tense frown was not.

“What-?”

“You've felt the tension, I know you have. Ever since Logan first came, it's like our world got turned inside out, and... I think there could be a way for us to resolve it.”

A wave of nauseating fear swept through their link. Jean was monitoring it so closely the flood of emotion hit her hard in the gut, making her want to double over and retch. Images flashed, the clarity of the fleeting shadows she had only glimpsed before.

*Alone. Alone. She's leaving you.*

“Scott!”

As he recoiled backwards, Jean chased after, reaching out to hold his jaw in place and planting a firm kiss on his lips.

“I'm not going anywhere, ok?”

He covered here hands with his own, ducking his head to compose himself. Jean gave him a minute.

“I want you to look at something.”

There was no gentle way to explain the concept of polyamory to someone like Scott Summers, but Jean did her best. He freaked out a couple of times, predictably, as went through the number of websites Jean had found. She tried to soothe him and encourage him to keep an open mind. She lost her temper, once, and the lightbulb shattered, so they cleaned it up together, and apologised to each other. Scott had just found some old newspaper to wrap the glass in when Jean felt a presence at the door.

Familiar. Pine needles and autumn sunlight, Cohiba cigars. A slow smile forming on her face, Jean waved her hand and the door opened. Scott turned around in surprise.

Logan was standing hunched over by the threshold, not looking nearly his usual imposing self, hands in his jacket pockets and dark eyes unreadable.

“Logan! I see you're looking better.” It was too easy to slip back into the teasing tone she reserved for him.

Logan huffed a laugh. “Yeah, uh, turns out there was a build-up of cosmic energy, or something, from all the mutants that died there. That's what drove the wolves all crazy. Professor thinks it got to me as well, on account of my fucked up head.”

The tall man hunched down even further, clearing his throat. “I'm sorry I bothered you, it's just that it's not really gone – I still feel like finding a cave for the three of us.”

“It's alright, Logan.” Surprisingly, this came from Scott. The words were stiff, but deliberate, and something warm was squeezing Jean's heart like a fond embrace. Pride.

Her gift may have opened a three-way connection between them all because everything happened smoothly after that. Scott let out a sudden yawn and Jean laughed happily and then Logan was shedding his outer clothing and clambering onto the middle of their bed.

“This alright?” He hummed.

Jean stole a small kiss in response, feeling ridiculous and shy like her teenage self. Scott slid in on the other side, tentatively clasping their hands together over Logan's chest. A collective sigh was released.

 

***** THE END *****

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so many formatting issues! In general, i am very ashamed of this story, but hey, can only improve from here. Bring on next year's Rarepair Fest!
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Highlander_II,
> 
> I'm so sorry you got lumped with me as i fumble my way through my first gift exchange. I apologise for the poor quality of my gift... I was overjoyed simply to have finished on time! I can only hope I successfully avoided your DNW's. 
> 
> This story was born when you mentioned crack!fic, and was originally inspired by the sex pollen trope. Turns out I can't even write crack properly, but I had fun. I actually planned about 5 fics in the hopes that one of them would be finished semi-decently. I much prefer my other ideas, so you may receive them as treats in the near future (if I can figure out how), because quantity makes up for quality, right?
> 
> Yours in fanfiction,  
> Anon
> 
> (i nearly signed my name, lol)


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